


Together we can take the world apart, my love

by babygotbackstrom



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 04:01:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10711761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babygotbackstrom/pseuds/babygotbackstrom
Summary: Is it strange to read about the man one’s going to seduce while sitting next to one’s husband in bed? Sasha isn’t sure. It might be, except that Nicky’s going to be listening in the whole time.That’s probably strange.





	Together we can take the world apart, my love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [screamlet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/screamlet/gifts).



> i can't apologise enough. i'd have liked this to have been longer but flu and work and death by playoffs conspired. title comes from _the world is not enough_ by garbage because duh

“Why do you have your wedding ring on, Sasha?”

“Because I’m married.”

It is, technically, true. 

.

“Is it difficult?”

Nicky looks up from the monitor, his brow slightly furrowed. “Is what difficult?” 

“Seeing your husband picking up other men?”

Nicky pauses for a moment. Listens. “It’s part of the case,” he says. 

He’s stopped denying that he and Sasha are married, even if it’s not entirely for real. 

.

 

“Why does Ovechkin get to seduce the mark?”

“Why, you jealous I’m better honeypot than you?”

Zhenya snorts. “Please. I’m far more attractive than you are.” 

“We went with Ovechkin,” says Pascal, “Because he’s the mark’s type.”

“Mark’s type is tall and Russian,” says Zhenya, grumpily. “ _I_ am tall and Russian.” 

“I’m better,” says Sasha. “Ask Nicky.”

“ _You_ ask Nicky,” says Zhenya. 

.

Is it strange to read about the man one’s going to seduce while sitting next to one’s husband in bed? Sasha isn’t sure. It might be, except that Nicky’s going to be listening in the whole time. 

That’s probably strange. 

The more Sasha reads about Crosby, though, the more interested he becomes. If he met Crosby at a cafe or a DVD rental place or whatever (do they even still have those?), he probably would want to seduce him anyway, even if it wasn’t his job. He’s even fairly attractive, in a Canadian way. 

He’ll have to do it for real, sometime. 

This thing with Nicky (okay, yes, a marriage, they are married, to have and to hold till the Russian government loses interest and realises that Sasha has definitely defected); this thing is finally going to have to end. Sasha is finally going to have to let go of the best thing in his life. Sasha is finally going to have to stop being selfish. 

He sets the file to the side. Like Nicky, he likes paper files. They burn more easily than tablets. 

He turns towards Nicky and rests his hand on Nicky’s hip. 

“Hello,” he says. “Can we fuck?” 

.

“You’re married,” says Crosby, flatly, nodding at Sasha’s ring finger. 

“Not really,” says Sasha. “Is marriage of convenience. I’m Russian mail order bride.”

“Sure,” says Crosby. He somehow manages to inject a note of wry humour into one syllable. Sasha might be a little smitten. 

“No, really,” says Sasha, leaning forward. The table is small and his knees are already touching Crosby’s. “My bed very cold at night. Scandinavian husband, you know.” 

.

Nicky has mastered the art of the neutral expression. His juniors are generally terrified by his resting murder face and so they stay well clear. 

A mug of coffee is set down in front of him.

Zhenya has not mastered the same art. 

“You okay, Backstrom?” he asks. 

“Sasha is a good agent,” says Nicky. “I believe him. Don’t you?”

.

“What do you mean, you can’t seal the deal? Is this some kind of performance anxiety?”

“How dare,” says Sasha, drawing himself up to his full height. He doesn’t look around the room. He can’t meet Nicky’s eyes, or Zhenya’s. “Crosby needs a gentler hand.”

“Should have sent in little Zhenya then,” says Zhenya, lips twitching. 

“Look, you want seduce, I seduce,” says Sasha, hotly. “Can get intel tomorrow, if you want. Easy as anything. Can get _man_ within weeks.”

“Wait,” says Trotz. “You’re saying you can get Crosby to roll?”

Sasha shrugs. “He may be mercenary but not bad man. Think he wants to do right thing.” 

Trotz is practically quivering. “Then maybe we should take a two-pronged approach. Malkin?”

“What,” says Sasha.

“What,” says Zhenya.

Nicky says nothing. There’s not even a _thunk_ as his forehead meets the table in front of him. 

.

So, if there’s one thing harder to watch than one’s husband seducing a mark, it’s watching him get competitive about it. 

Sasha moves into a hotel. For realism, he says. There’s no way of knowing if Crosby has his own men. 

Nicky likes to think he knows a little about counter-surveillance but he doesn’t argue. 

He shouldn’t feel lonely but three years of a sham-marriage, with a surprising amount of sex, probably counts as a habit. 

Sasha is still wearing his wedding ring. That probably counts as a habit, too. 

. 

It’s possible that Zhenya should have disclosed this beforehand.

“You _know_ Crosby?” asks Sasha. “How do you know this _moose_ face?” 

“Hey,” says Crosby, mildly. “That’s offensive.”

Great. Apparently, Crosby speaks Russian too. 

“We, ah, met on vacation,” says Zhenya. 

“It was fun,” says Crosby. “I suppose you want the intel on Bettman. I didn’t have you pegged for a patient man, Ovechkin.” 

Sasha stares at them blankly. “You know who I am?”

“Of course,” says Crosby. “I make it my mission to carry out a background check into every Russian who tries to get in my pants, since Zhenya.” 

“So you didn’t carry out a check on me?” asks Zhenya.

“Of course I did,” says Crosby, looking mildly outraged that his professionalism is being called into question. “I mean, it took a few orgasms but I remembered to, eventually.”

Zhenya looks unbearably smug. 

His phone rings. 

“Backstrom,” he says.

Sasha feels insulted. Why isn’t Nicky calling him? 

Zhenya listens intently. “So, our handler thinks that we should stop fucking around and bring you in. You coming quietly?”

“You know that’s seldom true, Zhenya,” says Crosby. “But yes, I’m pretty fucking sick of running. Take me to your leader, or whatever.”

Sasha tries not to look too sulky but he doubts he’s succeeding. 

“Don’t worry, Ovechkin,” says Crosby. “We can still fuck, if you like.”

“I’m married,” says Sasha. He doesn’t see Zhenya’s raised eyebrow. 

“He’s more than welcome,” says Crosby. “Backstrom, right?”

“Do you know everything?” asks Sasha, bleakly.

“I like to research my future employers,” says Crosby, sniffing slightly. 

“I want to go home,” says Sasha. 

.

Sasha drops his bag on the bedroom floor. 

“It’s good to be back, Nicky,” he says, fervently. 

Nicky smiles at him. “You’re such a shit, do you know that?”

“Love when you talk dirty, baby.” 

.

“Why does Backstrom get _three_ top assets?” asks Patric. 

“Because he’s the only one who can handle Ovechkin, Malkin and Crosby,” says Henrik.

<< Yes >> Sasha’s voice pipes up in Nicky’s ear. << Even Crosby impressed with your handling last night, Nicky >>

Nicky schools his expression. His juniors back away. 

He taps the button on his headpiece. “Okay, boys. This is how it’s going to go.”


End file.
